Page 26 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Six
It’s scary how easy it is to fall into an old routine. To take on another persona as though it’s a well-worn role in a tired play. I’ve been away from the kids for days, but in little over an hour, I’ve broken up two fights and played referee during three shouting matches.
Some things never change. And in Maxim’s world, maybe that’s agoodthing.
“Damn, Frankie,” Mikie grumbles from across the living room. He lies across a couch so expensive it probably belongs in a fancy boutique rather than here. His bare feet are propped on one of the armrests, and I nearly rip his legs from their sockets as I knock them off.
“Have some fucking manners,” I snap at him. “We don’t live here.” And I can’t shake that fact no matter how comfortable they seem. The beautiful, priceless furniture serves as a mocking reminder that it’s not truly ours. It’s borrowed.
“Chill,” he says, laughing. “I almost forgot what it sounds like to hear the master utilize ten different curse words in one sentence. Bravo.”
“Fuck off, smartass.” My jaw aches, but when I rub the sore muscle, I realize why. I’m smiling.
Maybe because this feels good in a way I don’t expect. No talk of weddings or gowns. Normalcy.
But there is always an undercurrent that reinforces one thing—this newfound security is possible at the behest of one person. The man who pays the bills. The puppet master who ensures that I don’t have to craft a lunch of burned macaroni and Pop-Tarts like I used to.
In my new reality, a chef appears from nowhere to announce that brunch has been served in a dining room set exactly for seven. In lieu of paper plates, fine cutlery and expensive china adorn each place setting. No roaches are scurrying in the corners to set the mood. Instead, a bay window overlooks a meticulously crafted garden of fancy, colorful flowers.
Trust fund babies, eat your heart out.
“Hey!” Mikie snaps, slapping at one of the twins’ hands as they reach across the table. “Use your goddamn manners and say please. Right, Frankie?”
Something inside me aches as he eyes me as if for permission. While I’ve been gone, I have no doubt as to who had to step up to fill my shoes.
“Right,” I croak.
“Taste this,” Ainsley squeals, shoving a forkful of her food in my face. The menu ironically consists of a fancier version of macaroni and cheese with vegetables on the side instead of sugar.
I choke down a bite. “It’s good.”
“Yeah! I didn’t know anything, but pizza could taste so good,” Ainsley chirps in agreement.
“Pass me the bread,please,” Mikie says while reaching for a porcelain saucer. “So where are we going, Frankie? I never thought we’d be the kind of people who ‘go away’ for summer break.”
I can’t tell if he’s horrified or excited by the prospect.
“It’s a surprise, right, Frankie?” Ainsley pitches in.
“Do I have to eat this? I read in a magazine that dairy isn’t good for your skin,” Daisy muses, eyeing her plate. “Though the sun isn’t either, so if we’re going to a beach—”
“What’s a little more acne, pizza face?” One of the twins snipes.
I sigh and reach for a fork. “Cut it out. Let’s just have a nice, normal fucking…”
Something in the window catches my eye. A shadow, displacing the pretty flowers and manicured lawn. No. A person…running?
“Frankie?” Someone taps my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I…”
Suddenly, two men race into the dining room and lunge toward the window. One of them bites out a shouted command, “Get down!”
And everything goes to shit.
Glass shatters. Screams echo. Something slams into me from the side, knocking me to the floor. I scramble for balance, dazed as a million different things happen at once.
Racing footsteps. Another monstrous, echoing sound. Noise. More screams, high-pitched and deafening. I can’t see. Think.
